


On Rationalizations, Fetishes, and Giving in

by tkross



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, RPF, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1751078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tkross/pseuds/tkross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's sure that running some lines together, in costume, on a tiny love seat, is either a very good or a very bad idea. But he has no idea which.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thebaddestwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebaddestwolf/gifts).



> Happy birthday baddest!!!  
> Thanks to Resile for the beta and all the encouraging feedback :D
> 
> This is my first try at writing an rpf...

David paces outside of Billie’s trailer, feet shuffling in the gravel as he passes the bottom of the steps that lead up to her door for the seventh time. He pauses, willing himself to either walk away or knock on her door, unsure of which choice would be the wisest. Well, that’s a lie and he knows it -- walking away would be the _wisest_ , certainly the most prudent thing to do anyway.

Especially after what almost happened last time…

Still, it’s not like there’s any harm in running lines or sharing a drink with a mate after an afternoon of filming. A couple of weeks ago, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought and, really, it would be strange if he _didn’t_ pop by for at least a few minutes. After all, he’s supposed to act as though everything were normal between them. 

Resolved, David takes a few tentative steps forward and then looks down at his empty hands and stops. Craning his neck in the direction of the set, he bites his lip, contemplating whether or not he has enough time to run back to the craft services table before they put everything away. Maybe they’ll have one of those soft cheeses she’s so fond of… those soft cheeses she’s so fond of spreading over small pieces of bread and savoring bite after bite, her tongue darting out to lick the stray crumbs off of her lips.

No, best not.

Breathing out a silent curse at the nervous flutters in his stomach that make him feel like a bloody schoolboy, he decides stalling is pointless and walks the remaining steps to her door and knocks without further hesitation. The effort pushes the door open unexpectedly and he finds himself propelling forward without warning and into Billie’s arms.

“Easy there Dave, I know you like to make an entrance but you almost knocked me off my feet,” she says breathily into his chest.

She has her arms wrapped around his waist in a steadying gesture that shouldn’t feel as intimate as it does and he resists the urge to pull her in tighter for a hug. He’s missed this sort of closeness with her. Swallowing against the top of her head, he pulls away.

“Sorry! Wasn’t expecting it to be ajar. Most of us actually close our doors around here. There are strange creatures lurking about, you know.”

“Right, wouldn’t want to get attacked by cybermen during my few hours off.” She wrinkles her nose. “Only, the cybermen aren’t very frightening, are they? They look like crap robots, if I’m being honest.”

He screws his face up in what he hopes looks like mock outrage. “Sure, sure, there’s nothing frightening at all about metal men that want to saw into your skull and rip out your brain matter and remove all of your emotions. Perfectly harmless, really.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” she laughs, throwing her head forward and placing her hand on his shoulder to steady herself.

David can’t help the huge grin that forms on his face as he lets her laughter wash over him; sometimes he wonders if he’s becoming addicted to the sound - countless hours spent listening to Britain’s finest theatre actors recite the sonnets of Shakespeare and he still thinks her laugh might be the most gorgeous sound he’s ever heard, especially when he’s the one making it happen. 

The anxiety he felt only moments ago begins to dissipate. Maybe if he can keep her laughing, the undercurrent of awkwardness between them will be forgotten. 

Billie quiets suddenly and takes her hand off of his shoulder, running it through her hair instead and letting her gaze linger on the wall behind him. And just like that their easy banter turns into an uncomfortable silence that stretches the length of the trailer and back again.

His smile fades and he opens his mouth to say something -- anything that might help ease this unspoken tension -- but the words get trapped in his throat. 

When she finally meets his eyes, there’s a playful glint there masking her vulnerability that he knows better than to believe. “What are you doing lurking about my trailer anyway -- aren’t you meant to be on set right now?”

“I was _not_ lurking!” he denies, perhaps a bit too quickly. “No, actually, I’m not due back on set until you are, so I was wondering if you’d like to run a few lines with me before the long night shoot.”

She bites her bottom lip, working it back and forth between her teeth, and he tries not to stare at the way her tongue peeks out of the corner of her mouth.

“But if you’re busy, I can always go back to mine and look over them myself. Really, I’ve got this lamp there that makes a great stand in for Rose. Might even put in a request to have it auditioned. Mind you, it’s a bit on the lumpy side, but nothing make-up and costuming won’t be able to handle,” he says, holding his breath and hoping he hasn’t said the wrong thing.

The snort of laughter that escapes her lips feels like benediction and relief all at once and his body begins to relax as he notices how stiff his limbs had become. 

“I’d like to see that – ‘the Doctor and lamp travelling through time and space’. Brilliant.” She shakes her head at him, smiling, and they stand there like that for a moment, just grinning at each other. “I was about to have a bit of a lie down when you popped over but I suppose I could stand to go over my lines again as long as we’re sitting somewhere comfortable. My legs are killing me.”

His eyes travel around the room until they land on a plush chair in the corner, barely big enough for two people. “Of course. How about that sofa over there? Will that do?”

“There’s not –“ she turns her head to look at where he’s pointing. “Oh, you mean that chair. Um, sure I suppose that’s big enough for us both.”

The playful glint in her eye this time masks nothing and makes him very nervous, reminding him of all the reasons he should keep a careful distance between them but there’s no way he’s taking it back.

“Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I’m gonna go put my costume back on.”

“Oh?” he says and it comes out as more of a squeak than an actual word. “Is that really necessary? I mean it’s just running lines and, really, you look fine with what you’ve got on right now.” He looks her up and down noting her baggy, red and black checked pajama pants and black tee shirt for the first time.

“Well, you’ve still got your tux on so I figure it only makes sense for me to put my outfit on too and, besides, I don’t think I can get into character like this at the moment.”

“Right. I’ll just – “ He motions his chin towards the chair. “Be over there.”

He watches her leave for a moment before walking over to a dormitory sized refrigerator to grab a bottle of water that he opens and pours down his parched throat, emptying the contents of the cool beverage in one gulp. Crushing the bottle with one hand, he tosses it into a bin and makes his way over to the chair, which looks much smaller now that he’s standing right in front of it. 

Against his will, David’s mind wanders back to the night in her flat, two weeks ago, when they’d both had a little too much to drink. One moment they were sitting on Billie’s sofa, laughing so hard that tears streamed down their cheeks, and the next his lips were on hers, tasting the whisky on her breath. He’s sure something happened in between those two things but no matter how many times he goes over it, he has no memory of what it might have been. 

Yet, every other detail after that has played in vivid technicolor over his mind on repeat since, despite the alcohol induced haze: the softness of her pliant lips as they moved against his and the way they clumsily clacked their teeth together when they tried to find the right angle; the roughness of her jean skirt on his arm as she moved into his lap and the way his hand determinably travelled up her thigh when she parted her legs for him; the wetness of her knickers as he traced two fingers back and forth over her clit and the way he helplessly rubbed himself against her hand when she palmed his hardened shaft through his trousers. 

That’s when her phone rang and acted as a sobering reminder of those that could be hurt by their spontaneity and all the messy reasons not to get involved with costars. 

He’d jumped away from her as she answered the call, bolting up to right his trousers before leaving her flat to return to his own across the hall, barely giving her a wave goodbye on the way out. 

At work they remained the same as always, laughing between takes and casting teasing, flirty glances at one another, to the point that he began to wonder if Billie hadn’t been affected by what happened between them at all. Perhaps he was the only one turning it over and over in his head. But then he caught her alone one night in the hallway of their flats and the air between them had been so heavy with awkwardness that he bid her goodnight immediately. Until now, he’s managed to avoid being alone with her again. 

The sound of the door to the loo opening alerts him of Billie’s presence and he turns to face her, a lie already half formed on his lips that would excuse him from continuing with their plans. When he sees her, the words disappear into his gaping mouth. 

His eyes travel down her body, taking in the short black dress and white apron that serves as her maid costume for the current episode. The first time he saw her in it, he almost had to duck into his trailer to regain his composure before he could attempt the day’s scenes. Luckily the cybermen wandering around set had provided the perfect distraction.

Unfortunately, no such distractions exist in Billie’s trailer. 

When Billie clears her throat, David realizes his gaze has lingered a little too long on the patch of bare skin above her breasts revealed by the open buttons on her dress, and his eyes snap to her face. 

“What?” she asks, sounding innocent and looking anything but, a small knowing smile tugging at her lips. 

“Oh nothing. Just forgot how drab that dress was. It’s really, quite, erm... black. And a bit plain, really. Hope they give Rose some better gear next time.” 

“Right.” She lifts her eyebrows and breathes out a quiet laugh. “You know, _tenninch_ I wouldn’t have pegged you for a fetishist.” 

“A fetishist? How’s that, then?” he asks, beginning to get irritated.

Shaking her head, she turns around and walks over to the refrigerator. “Nevermind. Would you like a beer before we get started?” 

“Yes, thank you,” he blurts out without thinking. Adding alcohol to the mix probably isn’t the best idea but he has no idea how he’ll get through the next few minutes without it. 

She bends down to grab two bottles and he has to avert his eyes to keep from staring at the way her dress hikes up her legs, revealing the lacy top to her thigh-high black tights.

Just before she stands back up, he makes a show of adjusting his bow tie, untying and retying it with forced concentration. It won’t do to have her see how affected he is, especially when he’s relatively certain she knows exactly what she’s doing to him.

“Have you got your pages with you?” Billie asks as she uses an opener to remove the caps off of their beers, handing him a bottle before plopping down onto the chair. 

He reaches into the pockets of his tuxedo jacket and finds them empty and he already knows that he will find his trouser pockets the same. Giving her a sheepish shrug, he shakes his head. “Nope. Must have left them on set.”

“That’s alright. We’ll work off of mine. Suppose it’s lucky this chair is so small after all.” She pats the empty space to her left and pulls out her script, turning it to the relevant page.

David hesitates for a moment, breathing out an inaudible sigh, second guessing the wisdom of sitting so close to her right now. Still, he’s better off going with it -- suggesting a different spot would be like shouting out the truth of his secret crush and he’s not willing to give her anymore power over him than she already has. In fact, he needs to find a way to balance things out a bit before the night ends.

Carefully avoiding brushing up against her legs, he sits down next to her. The chair rests so low to the ground that his knees practically hit his chin when he bends them into a sitting position, making him feel like the gangly teenage boy that he used to be. Perfect analogy to how he’s felt all night, really. 

“I think we should start on the scene where Rose is about to go off with Pete -- “ A guffaw replaces the remaining words in her sentence when she turns to look at him and it takes her a few seconds to recover as she bends forward clutching her stomach, laughter coming out in several short breaths. “I’m sorry, it’s just, you look quite ridiculous like that. A bit adorable too, really, but that can’t be comfortable. Here, I’ll get you something to prop your legs on.”

“No, no, I’m perfectly fine like this.” He stretches his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “See? No need.” _Adorable_. She thinks he’s adorable! Of course he’d never admit to being pleased by such an adjective usually reserved for kittens and puppies, but he’ll take it. 

“Okay, shall we get started then?” 

“Sure, yeah.” Leaning his head in so that he can read the shared script, he waits for her to begin.

“Will you read Pete and Jake too? I’ll do Mrs Moore and Mickey.” He nods, resisting the urge to make a crude joke about threesomes as she traces her finger over the script until she lands on the first line of the scene. “Actually, it’s your line first.” 

He places his hand on the paper, and when her fingers lightly graze his, her touch sends tingles through his digits and up his arm. Suppressing a shiver, he tries to focus on the blurred words beneath their overlapping hands. They leave them that way for a few seconds before he moves his to tug at the script. 

“May I?” he whispers. 

“Go for it,” she replies and he’s gratified to hear the husky tone in her voice. 

“The whole of London’s been sealed off, and the entire population’s been taken inside the place. To be converted,” he reads.

“We’ve got to get in there and shut it down,” Billie responds without reading, having her lines memorized before he does, as usual.

“Uh, next bit’s Mickey. See?” He points at the spot where she should read. 

She leans in closer and her hair brushes against his nose. Without meaning to, he inhales the aroma of her shampoo -- some sort of floral scent he can’t place that makes him dizzy because it’s the same smell he associates with that night two weeks ago. 

“It’s not a fetish,” someone says and he thinks it might be him, but he’s not sure.

“Sorry?” she frowns, looking at him with confusion. “Oh, you mean the maid dress. Don’t worry about it, David. I was only teasing you.” 

Half wondering how those words escaped his throat to begin with, he swallows before responding. “It’s not -- that is to say, I don’t have a fetish. It’s just you, Bills. In that dress. It’s quite sexy on you and after all day of admiring it as the Doctor, I forgot myself for a moment.” 

A slow grin blooms on her face that rivals the most gorgeous sunrise. And he really wishes his brain would stop making those sorts of comparisons... 

“Do you think the Doctor fantasizes about what it would be like to remove Rose’s dress at the Tyler mansion?” 

“Ah. No, the Doctor, he doesn’t do that sort of thing,” he denies.

She rolls her eyes at him. “Oh please. It’s not a family show in here. No cameras. No press or fans or anything like that to hear what you say; there’s just me and you. So tell me what you _honestly_ think.”

In the back of his mind he knows what she’s really asking him and it has nothing to do with the characters they play on a television show, but he’s powerless to resist the allure of her game. 

“Alright. Yes. He thinks about how he’d like to run his fingers down Rose’s back until he reaches the knots keeping the apron around her waist.”

“And what does he want to do with the apron?”

“He, uh, wants to untie it.”

She laughs. “I figured that much, yeah. But what does he want to do after that?”

David feels his face turning pink and suddenly he has the urge to make _her_ blush instead: this could be the perfect way to regain some sort of control over the situation, or at the very least make things a little more equal. Leaning forward, he allows his hand to _accidentally_ drop onto her leg and he begins to trace the stitching of her dress, skimming her thigh with his fingertips. 

“He wants to wrap his arms around her waist and tug the apron down,” he says, letting his accent grow stronger. “Then he’d slowly run his hands over her hips, her thighs, all the way down her legs as he pulls it off of her.” 

Glancing at Billie to gauge her reaction, he’s pleased to note the color tingeing her cheeks. “Then after that, he thinks about how he’d like to part her legs and yank up the skirt of her dress so that he can remove her stockings, one leg at a time.” 

“Like this?” Billie asks, parting her legs and lifting up the corner of her dress.

“Yep,” he says, removing his hand from her thigh and taking a swig of his beer, swallowing down the courage he needs to continue. “Then he wants to turn her around to face him so that it’s easier to undo the buttons on the front of her dress.”

Unsure of how far he should take this, he hesitates. But then he notices how Billie seems to be hanging on his every word, her head inclined towards him as she plays with her hair the way she sometimes does when she’s concentrating or a bit nervous. 

Seeing how affected she is gives him more confidence, making him feel increasingly brazen. “There’s this tantalizing patch of skin above her cleavage that’s been taunting him all day, you see. And this Doctor, well, this Doctor is a breast man so really, getting that dress undone would be a top priority for him.”

He pauses a moment for effect, letting the suspense build as he begins to trace the hem of her dress again. “There’s already a couple of buttons undone so it’s easy work for him to undo the others. But he doesn’t want to take the dress off yet -- not when it’s been fueling his fantasies all day long.” 

David glances at Billie in time to see her shiver. Smiling, he takes another drink of his beer. “Once he’s got it open, he dips his head down so that his nose rests in her cleavage, his hands pushing each side of the dress to the side so that he can unclasp her bra with his teeth. Because of course it’s one of those front clasping bras that Rose wears just for him.” 

He lets his hand wander a little closer to the part between her legs, grazing the inside of her thighs with his fingers. “Then he sucks one nipple at a time into his mouth, giving each one equal attention, of course, so that neither of them feel neglected.” 

Billie tilts her head, her mouth hanging open as one of her fingers absentmindedly traces the outline of her lips. “And what do you think Rose does in response?”

“What do _you_ think she does, Bill?” he challenges. 

“I think…” she says, her cheeks pinker than he’s ever seen them. “I think I’m done playing stupid games, David.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically just smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously: 
> 
>  
> 
> _“What do you think she does, Bill?” he challenges._
> 
>  
> 
> _“I think…” she says, her cheeks pinker than he’s ever seen them. “I think I’m done playing stupid games, David.”_

Billie’s words pull David out of the illusion, jarring in their abrupt change of tone, and he jerks his hand off of her thigh, running it through his hair instead. Panic bubbles up from his stomach and into his throat and when he opens his mouth to respond, it is as useless as attempting to speak under water. Leaning forward, he takes a deep steadying breath and somehow the intake of oxygen makes him feel less like he’s drowning.

“Oh,” he says quietly and then clears his throat, determined to sound more confident. “I’m sorry. I took it too far didn’t I? That was unprofessional of me. I’ll just --”

She places two fingers over his lips and he crosses his eyes to look down at them.

“No, David. That’s not it at all.” She twists a lock of hair between her thumb and index finger and lets out a frustrated sigh. “It’s just… you’ve got to admit, we’ve been right little idiots and I think it’s time we acknowledged that there’s something between us, something that started well before that night two weeks ago when you bolted out of my flat with your tail tucked between your legs.”

“That’s not -- “ Taking another deep breath, he scrambles for the right response. “We were both completely sloshed, Bills, and I didn’t want you to regret it the next day. Who knows how far we would have gone had you not taken that call.”

“I knew exactly what I was doing -- I’ve got full control over myself when I’m drunk. Reckon I’ve had enough practice.” She places her hand on his thigh, rubbing it back and forth in a soothing gesture that doesn’t feel at all like seduction but still manages to make his cock half harden in his tight tuxedo trousers.

He turns to face her and lifts his hand to trace the long line of her jaw with his thumb. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what happened that night. That’s why I’ve not popped ‘round your place until, well, until tonight. Thought your trailer would be safer than your flat. I guess I was avoiding being alone with you.”

“I’ve noticed.” She says, smiling and turning her lips into his palm, planting a kiss there. “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah?” He smiles back, eyes lingering on her parted lips.

“Of course.” Her tongue darts out, wetting her bottom lip. “You’ve really been thinking about that night this whole time? Thought you’d forgotten all about it.”

He shakes his head. “Funny, I thought you’d forgotten all about it. Thought I was the only one affected.”

“Well, clearly we’re both quite daft.” Billie snuggles closer and begins toying with the buttons on his shirt.

“Suppose we are, yeah.” He rests his chin on top of her head, pressing his nose into her hair. “One thing I’m not so clear on, though, is how it happened.”

She tilts her head up at him, eyebrows furrowed into a slight frown and teasing smile on her lips. “What do you mean? Generally, these things are fairly obvious. We kissed and one thing led to another.”

“Ah. Well, my memory seems to have blocked out who made the first move.”

“What, seriously? Does that really matter?” she laughs. “Well, this is how I remember it – one second we were joking around and then you reached over to wipe something off of my cheek and you kissed me.”

“Oh. Right, of course.”

She shakes her head at him. “So. These fantasies the Doctor has about Rose -- any chance you’re projecting your own desires onto your character? Because if that’s the case, Mister Tennant, I’ll have to agree that you are being quite unprofessional.”

David laughs and wraps his arms around her waist. “Well, yes and no. I’d say there’s a bit of David in my Doctor, really. Or a bit of Doctor in David, maybe.” He tugs her closer. “I’ll stop talking about myself in the third person now. There’s some definite projecting, yes. But I think the Doctor wants to do all those things to Rose too. Only, he’s got better control of his urges than a human does, being a Time Lord and all.”

Breathing out a quiet chuckle, Billie draws little circles on the inside of his thigh and he has to suck in his stomach to avoid letting out a groan when her fingers get a little too close to his growing erection. “You honestly sit around thinking about these things, don’t you?”

“Nah.” He’s silent for a few seconds as he lets his hand wander down her back until he reaches the tie of her apron. “Well, sometimes,” he says, sighing as he starts to play with the knot, pressing a kiss into the side of her head. “Billie, what are we doing right now?”

She lifts her chin to look up at him, lips only inches away from his. “We’re giving in.”

All those reasons he had for stopping last time still exist, each one more damning than the last. But the one that resounds in his mind loudest of all is the fear that this will end in the loss of her friendship and he can't move forward until they agree not to let that happen.

"Billie, if this ends -- "

"Shh. We'll still be mates. Sex isn't going to change that,” she says, hooded eyes gazing into his, daring him to make the next move.

He doesn’t believe her, not really, and he wonders if she even understands what she’s saying; wonders if that unflinching and almost reckless optimism extends to a belief in fairytale endings that have nothing to do with reality. What they do next will change things forever, no matter what happens later, and neither of them can be sure of how that might affect the still growing and tentative bonds of their friendship. But he's tired of resisting and tired of pretending too and he’s not even sure he’s capable of doing either anymore. So he nods and lets her pull his head down, closing the distance between them. 

When her lips touch his, the tingly sensation that travels up his body is almost too much and he nearly jumps away at the contact. Last time their kiss had been sloppy and frantic, the sensation dulled slightly by their inebriation.

This time, though, it feels slow and deliberate, his senses heightened in anticipation. It’s overwhelming; electric, like a jolt.

But not a bad jolt that tells him they shouldn’t be doing this, oh no -- it’s the sort of jolt that tells him they should _definitely_ be doing this and that he never wants to stop.

He’s so wrapped up in the feeling that it takes him a few seconds to realize that she’s started moving her mouth over his and he parts his lips, meeting her kisses with his own in response. It’s gentle and undemanding, almost loving, and feels nothing at all like a kiss that is only a means to an end; nothing at all like a way to get to the quick shag that they both intend.

It’s been so long since he’s kissed someone just for the sake of it that he almost wants to spend the rest of the evening this way, just enjoying the feel of her lips on his. 

The pressure building in his groin has other ideas, though, and with the way her pulse has quickened and her warm cheeks heat up the pads of his fingertips, he doesn’t think she’ll be content to let the night end there either.

Before he knows it, Billie is hovering over him, hiking up her dress as she lowers herself onto his lap. He wraps his arms more tightly around her waist, pulling her closer, and the partial erection he’s had for what seems like hours hardens fully against her stomach. 

The corners of her lips turn up into a smile and she places her hands on both sides of his face and increases the pressure of the kiss. Letting his tongue dart out, he tastes the mixture of beer and toothpaste lingering on her breath, and his hands drop to her thighs.

When Billie lifts her hips up and down, sliding over his erection, he lets out a muffled moan and breaks away from the kiss, latching on to her neck instead.

“Careful,” Billie whispers when he sucks a little too hard, gently pushing his head down and encouraging him to move his mouth lower. 

He complies, planting kisses along the line of her collarbone and her chest until he reaches the part in her dress where the buttons keep him from going further and he groans.

“This needs to come off.”

“Thought you liked the dress,” she says, gazing down at him with parted lips that bloom into a teasing grin. “There’s not time. You’re gonna have to work around it.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Don’t think you can handle the challenge, Teninch?” Her voice sounds husky and taunting and when she palms the bulge in his trousers and then lifts her hips up and back down again, he finds he can’t help but nod in agreement. 

“Erm.” He pushes the skirt of her dress up and hooks a finger through the elastic of her knickers, pulling them down. “Think I can manage it.”

She stands up and lets them drop to the floor, pulling her tights down with them, and starts to sit back in his lap, but he grabs her waist and holds her in place. 

In all of his many fantasies about this moment, the one that makes the most frequent appearance in his imagination has her taking his cock in her mouth. But seeing her there in front of him, real and gorgeous and aroused, he finds that what he wants more than anything right now is to taste her. 

Just as Billie tries to lower herself into his lap again, he tightens his grip around her waist and lifts her up a few inches, placing her next to him instead. Then, he gently pushes her back until her head rests against the arm of the chair, which is just wide enough that he should be able to do what he has planned with a little careful maneuvering.

In one swift movement, he turns towards her and leans back on his haunches, hooking her legs over his shoulders. 

“David, what --” she starts to ask, just as he dips his head beneath her skirt. “Oh.”

He presses a kiss against the inside of each of her thighs before parting her legs and pushing his nose into her folds. 

“There’s not time,” Billie says, the words coming out like a pant. “We’re expected on set.” But her fingers massage his scalp in encouragement, and she moans, grinding against his mouth when he sucks her clit between his lips and then pushes his tongue into her opening. 

The taste of her -- wet and warm and a little salty -- makes him dizzy and he has to grab the back of the chair to keep from falling off. She seems to sense his imbalance, because she leans up to grab his shoulders, steadying him. But then she’s dropping her legs and pulling him up and he’s suddenly hovering over her face to face instead. 

“I was enjoying that,” he says.

“Next time -- I’ve got other ideas for right now.” She reaches down to unzip his trousers, pulling out his cock and pumping him twice with her fist. 

He groans, involuntarily thrusting into her hand, and drops his head onto her shoulder. 

“Right,” he says, his voice sounding more like a squeak to his own ears. “I’ll just get some protection.” 

“That’s sweet but there’s no need. I’m totally covered.” 

Billie kisses his neck and gently pushes his trousers half-way down along with his pants, but when she tries to undo his bow tie too, he stills her hand. 

“No, Bill, fair is fair. Unless,” he starts unbuttoning her dress, pulling it off of her left shoulder and palming her breast, “you’ve changed your mind about leaving this on?”

She arches into his touch and bites her lip. “Leave it on, take it off, I don’t care. Just fuck me.”

A part of him wants to draw it out for as long as he can, to peel her outfit off one layer at a time and then explore every inch of her body until he commits it all to memory. Because there’s no guarantee that there will be a _next time_ , no matter what Billie says in the haze of her arousal. But hearing the sound of that word on her lips combined with the feel of her hand wrapped around his cock, he finds he can’t argue with her command.

He settles for a compromise instead.

Undoing the last of the buttons on her dress, he sucks her right nipple into his mouth and then her left, alternately teasing both with his teeth as he positions himself at her entrance. 

She’s so wet that he could probably enter her all at once, but he knows that after he does they will both be clamoring to finish and he can’t quite let go of this moment yet. So he pushes into her with his tip and then pulls back out again to rub his slick erection over her folds, teasing her opening by pushing into her and back out again a little more each time. 

Billie doesn’t seem to mind, going on the sound of her moans and the way she’s clawing at his back each time his erection touches her clit. But when he’s almost all the way inside her, she wraps her legs around his bum and pushes him down until he feels her slick walls all around him.

“David, please,” Billie whispers, bucking her hips. 

He nods at the imploring look in her eyes, and then kisses her softly on the lips as he begins to move with slow, gentle thrusts that gradually become faster and more erratic when her low moans turn more needy and demanding. When his roaming hands meet fabric instead of skin he settles for planting a trail of kisses from her mouth to her breasts and back again.

For the first time tonight, he’s thankful for the size of the chair because his long legs are still folded beneath him, making his thrusts shallow and preventing him from going as deep as he’d like to right now. Just the thought of this finally happening is nearly enough to make him come and he’ll never forgive himself if he finishes without getting her off too. 

As it is, he knows he won’t last much longer with the way Billie grasps his bum with each downward thrust and bites down on his collarbone every time his pelvic bone hits her clit, undoubtedly leaving marks that would have to be covered up later if not for his collared shirts. 

Just as David starts to feels his climax building, he reaches down to run his thumb over Billie’s clit and she bucks against him roughly, making him lose balance and he tumbles to the floor, bringing her along with him. 

The combination of pain and pleasure and the sudden change in position disorients him and he has to take a moment to process what happened. 

Somehow, he’s still inside of Billie and she’s on top of him looking just as confused as he feels. But then she shrugs and her parted lips transform into a grin, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. If not for the distracting sight of that smile and her breasts hanging out of the now barely on maid dress, he would have laughed at the absurdity of it all. 

Instead, he goes with it. 

Billie pulls herself up until she’s straddling him and begins a rhythm that quickly has him forgetting the discomfort of the hard floor and the carpet burn he knows he’ll feel later. 

The new position allows for deeper penetration and he has a passing thought that they should have done it this way from the beginning, because not only does it feel even more amazing, he can also see the pleasure on her face more clearly. 

She gazes down at him with hooded eyes, hair sticking to her flushed cheeks and mouth hanging open as she lets out the occasional moan or curse when he hits her in the right spot. Watching her like this, lost in the pleasure that he’s giving her -- that she’s giving herself -- he knows that neither of them are going to be able to resist doing this again.

Against his will, he begins to contemplate future scenarios and an image of what it would be like to flip her over and pound into her from behind fills his head and suddenly the need to come overtakes his lingering desire to make this last. He reaches up to tweak Billie’s nipples and speeds up his thrusts, shaking off the fantasy. _Next time._

Billie mumbles an unintelligible string of words that he’s pretty sure are a positive affirmation of the change in rhythm. His eyes travel down from her face to where his cock disappears inside of her with every downward motion of her hips. Within a few seconds he feels his balls tightening and his eyes widen because she’s not climaxing yet. Biting down on his tongue, he transfers his right hand from her nipple to her clit, rubbing light circles over it with his thumb and hoping it’s enough. 

When she arches her back and lets out a long strangled moan and her walls begin to contract around him, he almost utters a prayer of thanks. The pleasure of his own orgasm hits him all at once and he grunts, jerking his hips up and down as he empties himself inside of her. 

After their movements have slowed to a stop, Billie collapses on top of him. He’s out of breath and so is she and that should make him feel better about the quiet that has taken over the room, but nervousness bubbles up from his stomach to his throat again and replaces the euphoria he felt seconds ago. 

Then Billie wraps her arms around his back and nuzzles her nose into the crook of his neck, pressing a kiss there before pulling away and looking down at him with a smile that doesn’t hold even a trace of awkwardness. 

“That was amazing,” she says.

“Yeah?” At her raised eyebrow, he clears his throat. “I mean, yeah. It really was. Bills, are we --” 

When he doesn’t continue, she frowns and bites her lip. “Are we what?” 

“Are we alright?” 

“Course we are. Why wouldn’t we be? Don’t do that thing you do, David.”

“ _Thing?_ What thing?” 

She sighs and reaches down to cup herself as she slowly lifts off of him. David groans at the loss but is quickly distracted by the thought of his seed spilling into her hands. 

“That over-analyzing thing,” she says, shrugging. “I need the loo. Just, don’t go anywhere, okay?” She kisses him like it’s something she’s done a thousand times already and then stands up, turning her head over her shoulder as she walks away. “And no thinking while I’m gone. Go over your lines or whatever until I get back.”

David watches her leave before getting up to clean himself with one of his socks. 

Thoughts about everything that just happened and how it will change their relationship attempt to overwhelm him despite Billie's instructions. But the fact that they have to be back on set in less than five minutes pulls him back to the present. Instead, he focuses on thinking about his upcoming scene as he straightens his tux and smoothes out the wrinkles, hoping that it’s good enough and no one will notice. 

Two minutes later, Billie comes out of the loo, somehow looking exactly like she did when he arrived earlier that night, with not even a button out of place. 

He shakes his head and smiles at her efficiency, trying not to feel ridiculous in his ruffled tuxedo. 

"You clean up well, Piper," he says.

She bites her lip, eyes traveling down his body, and back up again before meeting his eyes. "You too. Can't wait until we're done for the night and I get to take that off of you at mine. I don't fancy doing it in this crap trailer again if we can help it."

"Erm," he says, running a hand through his hair.

Just like that he sees Billie's easy confidence falter and, shoulders slumping, she averts her eyes. "I mean, if you want. We don't have to -- I just reckoned since we were in such a rush..."

"Oh I definitely want." He grins and gives her a quick peck on the lips. "But I've got very specific plans and, well, they work quite a lot better if we go to my flat instead." 

Billie opens her mouth and closes it again and he smirks at the color on her cheeks. "That's, um, yeah. That's totally fine with me. But, David?"

"What?"

"While we’re filming, I want you to think of every little thing you’d like to do to me in this dress, because it’s the last time I’m wearing it.” She walks over to him, looking him in the eye as she straightens his bow tie. “Think of the way you’re gonna drag my stockings off of me with your teeth, one leg at a time. Think about how you’re gonna finish what you started earlier with your head between my legs. Ten quid says you get half hard in those tight trousers before we wrap for the night,” she says, smiling that saucy grin of hers, eyes on his crotch. “Like you have every day this week.”

Billie turns and walks out the door, leaving him silent and gaping as he struggles to come up with the perfect retort. 

Several hours pass before he does and by that point he's already made her come three more times and she has no idea what he's talking about anymore.


End file.
